


Kindle

by fireflyslove



Series: A Chain of Light (Worf/Jadzia DS9) [5]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Jadzia Dax Lives, Mild Blood, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Violent Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflyslove/pseuds/fireflyslove
Summary: Jadzia's pissed, Worf is pissed, and they fuck.Or, I'M pissed and channeling.(See notes at beginning for content warnings)
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Worf
Series: A Chain of Light (Worf/Jadzia DS9) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500980
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Kindle

**Author's Note:**

> HI *waves* welcome to my twisted mind. 
> 
> CW for: blood, rough sex, biting, alien genitalia (Worf has two cocks), breathplay. Nothing, imo, that isn't implied by canon, but if you think any of this will disturb you, please don't read. 
> 
> This takes place during _Radiance_ between two and three. In my head, this is where Sazi is conceived, so all the frustration is for naught. 
> 
> (Ok I was really fucking angry when I started writing this, re: Icheb, and needed something to punch, so Jadzia did it for me. Worf showed up, and well...)

Sometimes when she was frustrated, Jadzia would take her mood out on holographic enemies, but for once, the only thing she felt like destroying was a punching bag. Her knuckles were red and raw with the nearly hour of punishment she had put into the bag. Thin lines of blood traced their way down her wrists, and she angrily shoved her hair out of her face, leaving a streak of blood along her forehead. 

She was very glad that the holosuites had some measure of soundproofing, because her throat was sore with the shouting she had done. Any Klingon would’ve been proud of her for the battle cry. 

Her time was nearly up, and the fucking punching back didn’t have a mark on it outside of a few red streaks. 

“Computer, bat’leth,” she finally ordered, and pulled it out of the air when it materialized. It was deadly sharp, no reason for it not to be, she had turned the safety protocols off.

With expert placement, she swung it over her head toward the bag, and with a satisfying ripping noise, the canvas split and sand poured out. A few more slashes left her standing in a pile of canvas scraps and sand, and only feeling marginally better. 

“Computer, get rid of the punching bag, and get me a new one,” she muttered angrily.

The sand disappeared, and a new bag materialized. 

Just as she was about to cut it to ribbons, the door slid open to reveal a concerned-looking Quark. 

“What?” she spat. “My hour isn’t up yet.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I thought you might want to know that your husband just got back.” 

“Fuck,” Jadzia muttered. 

“You don’t want to see him?” 

“Just the opposite,” Jadzia said with a laugh containing little humor. 

“Good!” Quark said, clapping his hands. “You two can keep the holosuite for as long as you need.”

Jadzia was about to ask him what he meant by that when he turned and  _ scurried  _ away. Seconds later, Worf came through the door, his presence like a thundercloud. 

“What was that about?” Jadzia asked. 

“Apparently I scare him,” Worf said. 

“I can’t imagine why.”

“You look like you could kill something,” Worf said.

“I’m  _ fucking pissed _ ,” Jadzia spat. “Just… everything. It shouldn’t be this hard.”

“Getting pregnant?” Worf asked.

Jadzia nodded, and slammed the bat’leth into the punching bag for good measure. 

“What’s got you in a mood?” she asked, and his face twisted in a dark smile.

“Oh, much the same. Plus idiotic, stubbornheaded Klingons,” Worf said. “I am not talking about myself.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jadzia said, with a quirk of her lips.

Worf growled. “You want to play that game?”

“I do,” Jadzia said. “Computer, get rid of the punching bag.”

She barely had time to brace herself before Worf had her slammed up against the far wall, his nose buried in her neck. He was scenting her, and she buried her fingers in his hair, tugging at the ties. They burst under the pressure and his hair fell out around his face. 

He scraped his teeth along her collarbone, and then sank them into the ball of her shoulder, drawing blood and a hiss from her. She punched him in the gut, the fabric of his shirt scraping against the raw skin of her knuckles, and he backed up a step, just enough for her to slip out from between him and the wall. 

She went for his knees with her foot next, but he saw the move coming and caught her wrist before she could connect. He slammed her back up against the wall, one hand on her wrist, the other around her throat. Worf squeezed, just a bit, and Jadzia felt the blood slow to her brain. 

This they had discussed after she had passed out early in their relationship. Klingon necks were significantly stronger than Trill, and they could take being throttled. Jadzia, however, could not take the lack of air. An embarrassing (for him) discussion with Dr. Bashir had resulted in this compromise. Temporary reduction of blood flow to the brain would not permanently harm Jadzia, and satisfied all their needs. 

He released the pressure, but not his hand, and Jadzia looked up at him, his face clear for just a moment. 

“You’re sure?” 

She nodded. 

“You know how to stop,” Worf said. 

“One of us says  _ ghotI' tlhIq _ ,” Jadzia said. It translated to  _ fish stew _ .

“Good,” Worf said, and then spun her so she was facing the wall in a move too fast for her to counter. 

She kicked at him, but he had the superior position, and her struggles were in vain. A hand on the back of her neck kept her pinned to the wall while he asked the computer for a dagger. The cold line of steel traced up her back as he slid it through her clothes, up her spine, luckily old ones she only kept for exercise. 

Jadzia took the momentary distraction to shove her elbow back into his ribs, and he stumbled back. She shucked her top, throwing it in his face, and thrusting her shoulder into his gut. Her weight wasn’t enough to bring him down, but it did drive all the air out of him, and she skittered back, a gleam in her eye.

He threw the ruined garment on the floor, and turned to her, his teeth bared and a deep growl emerging from his chest. 

“You’re afraid of me now?” he taunted.

It was meant to goad her, and it did. She jumped forward, hands going for his throat. He caught her weight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her hands around his neck. Even if she couldn’t take direct force to her neck, Worf could, and she half-throttled him as he ripped her pants open. 

He stumbled back until his back was against the wall, and she released her hold on his neck for one on his upper arms. She sank her teeth into his shoulder, much in the same place that he had done to her, though his shirt padded her from drawing blood… yet.

“Off,” she spat. 

He dropped her, literally, she hit the floor, and in a blur, his clothes were gone. She grinned a feral grin, and leered at him. He dropped to the ground, and they rolled over and over until they hit the other wall. He slid a hand up her side, nails leaving red score marks on her skin. When he reached her breast, he grabbed it and twisted savagely. She shouted, and sank her fingers into his back, leaving twin lines of blood. 

Worf put one hand on each of her shoulders and pinned her to the floor, his hair falling around them in a curtain. She bared her teeth at him, unable to do anything with the hold he had her in. He Had to release one of his hands eventually, though, and she took the opportunity to hit him in the ribs. He grunted, but did not budge from his position over her. 

“On second thought,” he muttered to himself, and then one hand was on her hip, and he flipped her over. 

He pulled her hips up against him, and pressed his own forward into her. His cocks burned twin lines against her ass and she ground back, the pressure making him grunt.

The new position gave her her arms back, and she aimed another strike for the same spot in his ribs, full force, and felt a satisfying crack as it connected.

He hissed again, a feral sound and shoved a hand between her shoulders, pinning her face to the floor. With his free hand, he traced a finger down her back to her tailbone, then down the cleft of her ass to where she was dripping wet. He slid a thick finger in, and she moaned, gnashing her teeth in frustration. 

Worf’s next growl was amused, and he flicked his thumb over her clit as he put a second finger in.

“Just fucking do it,” Jadzia said. “I’m not going to break.”

He took her suggestion to heart, and before she had a chance to gasp, he had his cocks in one hand, and shoved them both inside. She keened with the sudden burning stretch, and the breath punched out of her. He set a ruthless pace, snapping his hips forward with a force that shoved her forward with each thrust. His hands moved from the back of her neck and the small of her back to her hips as he held on for leverage. 

Worf curled over her back and sank his teeth into the back of her neck, just below the scar from the same mark he had left on their wedding night. Jadzia screamed, and he reached a hand around, pinching her clit and giving it a rough twist.

She whited out for just a second, pleasure singing over all the nerves in her body as she screamed. Worf’s hips moved faster and shallower, and she reached back, sinking her nails into one of his forearms. The sudden sharp pain tripped his orgasm, and she felt the warmth as he spilled inside her, first one, then the other. 

He reached around again, softer this time, and rubbed at her clit, sending sparks of overstimulation over her nerves as he pulled out. Then he flipped her over onto her back again, and pulled her legs up over his shoulders. He nipped down the inside of each thigh, not leaving marks, until he was just at the crease of her thigh, and there he bit down just enough to prick the skin.

She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled. He licked into her, and the combination of his fingers and his tongue launched her over the edge again. He continued, despite her protests of overstimulation. His fingers, two or three, she couldn’t tell, slid into her, and pressed up, seeking out a certain spot that seemed common among many species. He found it, and relentlessly pressed at it until he wrang another orgasm out of her. 

Worf finally relented then, easing her legs down off his shoulders, and crawling up so her head was pillowed on his shoulder. 

“Feeling any better?” he asked after a moment.

“Much,” she said. “I could use some water though.”

“Computer, glass of water,” he said, and then handed it to her. She drank it in a few gulps, and then he followed suit. 

“I think I cracked one of your ribs,” she said.

“I concur,” he said. “We should go see the doctor.”

“Hmm. You seem to have destroyed my clothes.” She held up the scrap of what had once been her pants. 

-

“Oh what have you two done  _ now _ ?” Julian asked, almost a whine. Worf and Jadzia stumbled into the infirmary, him wearing his pants and undershirt, and she his overshirt, which made her barely decent.

“Do you really want the answer to that question?” she asked.

“No. Let me get you some pants,” he said, and one of the nurses handed him a pair of the purple-and-umber pants that went with the patients’ clothes. Jadzia pulled them on gratefully. “Well, who first?” 

“I think Worf’s the one with the bone injury this time,” Jadzia said. 

“Sit,” Julian said shortly, and Worf complied, grumbling. Julian scanned him, and then shook his head. “Two cracked ribs. If I weren’t concerned, I would be impressed. It takes a lot of force to crack a Klingon bone.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jadzia said.

“It wasn’t.” 

“I know.”

“And now you,” Julian said with another sigh. “Bites, here’s an antibiotic for any possible infection. And… you have some cracked metacarpals. I  _ do  _ want to know how you did that.”

“That I did to myself,” Jadzia said. “Punching bag.”

“Next time, use padding,” Julian said. “Reossification works, but on delicate bones like fingers, repeated usage can lead to deformations.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jadzia said, watching as the dermal regenerator fixed her skinned knuckles. 

“Anything else?” Julian asked, clearly wanting this to be over.

“Nothing that won’t heal itself,” Jadzia said.

“Excellent. Now, go get some sleep. Or something. Just please don’t come back here today.”

They limped back to their quarters in slightly better shape than they had come to the infirmary in, leaning on each other for support. 

“Where is Hatrel?” Worf asked. 

“Kasidy took them to Bajor for the day,” Jadzia said. “Something about Rebecca and… I dunno, I was to be honest, a little distracted.”

“Frustrated,” Worf said. 

“Exactly.”

They had reached their bedroom by this point, and collapsed into it. Jadzia landed face first in her pillow, and that was the last thing she remembered before she was awoken by Hatrel’s voice shouting “Mamaaaaaa!”

In a quiet moment a few hours later, Jadzia reflected that perhaps it was not the end of the world that she could not carry a child. She already had one who loved her, after all. Maybe that was enough.

Maybe. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found in a bottle behind Quark's bar @fireflyslove


End file.
